The first time I really noticed that something was up was around 2 months postpartum. There had been nerves and fear and panic before – we’d had an unexpected RSV hospital stay at 2 weeks old. But then weird, unexplained things started popping up.

Like when I would sit down to nurse Loney and my heart would start positively racing. Like I was being chased by a lion. I would just panic! It was bizarre. I’m no stranger to stress and overwhelm – I’m a textbook Upholder, Type A, overachieving, try to do it all in the dumbest way person. But I am NOT used to stress that is unattached, unfounded.

I would wake up in the morning scared, and I didn’t know why. It was like my body could hear ominous soundtrack music of which I was unaware. I was jumpy. My attention span was absolutely shot. I was high-strung, although that doesn’t really cover it. I was just walking around, even on happy and regular days, with this sense of low-grade panic. All the time. Sensory overload was happening every day, multiple times a day. I’d have the TV on while I did something and then Reese would start talking and Loney would fuss and Glen Coco was at my feet and suddenly I was yelling “Everyone stop!!!! Everything stop!!!!” Freaking out.

Obviously some days were worse than others, and there were days where I felt like myself again. I kept blaming it on circumstances. Ohhhh I’m just not reading my scriptures. It’s because I stayed up too late. Shouldn’t have listed to that scary podcast. I have a toddler and an infant so of course my brain is like “what were you thinking.” I’m sure that’s it.

So I’d fix it. I’d read my scriptures. I’d sleep more. I’d blast classical piano or hymns. I’d force myself to be more productive. Surely I can plan my way out of this!!!!!!!!!

Paranoia

As you might be predicting, It Got Worse! That’s when the paranoia set in. Terrible things will happen. Everyone hates me. Everyone I know and love can’t stand me, they talk about me behind my back, they wish I’d stop coming around. They’re just waiting for me to be so totally Danica and prove how awful I am. I’m the worst person and everyone is figuring it out.

When I would make a mistake, I felt loud, crippling alarms going off in my head. If someone seemed upset, distracted, or even said something just a little bit weird when I was with them – I was CONVINCED I had done or said something wrong again, they hated me, I screwed it all up.

My best friends, you guys. My incredible two best friends that have stuck around for 8 years of my life and now I was convinced they never wanted to be friends with me. I had tricked and forced them and deep down they couldn’t stand me. I knew it. I just knew it.

That’s when I started hiding. I was scared to go out. I was scared to talk to people. I was scared to share anything, really. I’m not saying I was a hermit, but honestly anytime I left my home during the months of April-July of 2017 was a big effort for me and I was scared the whole time. I found myself canceling plans, resisting making plans, sitting at home as much as possible. That’s not me.

When I did go out I was antsy, anxious. I’d overcompensate, do and say stupid things, act weird and then the intense guilt would set in. I’d cry in the car, the shower, in a Zumba class. Lol. Ugh. But it wasn’t funny then. Plus I’d have a couple of good days and think “Phew. Rough patch over!!!!”

Because that’s the thing. I knew something was off. But if I’m able to get out of bed and do the laundry and parent my kids… it’s not that big of a deal, right? And there were good days and fun days and days when I felt pretty normal. In my opinion this kind of thing is wayyyyyyy too easy to explain away with other factors and circumstances. I really wish I had seen the writing on the wall sooner. How much more fun could my summer have been? Why did I suffer longer than I needed to? Did I negatively impact my daughters and husband and family and friends? *Danger* *Danger* stop the mom guilt, Danica.

The Last Straw (dun dun)

June was dark. After lots of panic and overwhelm, Ryan suggested that I get some help. My workload was the heaviest it had ever been (another potential explanation!) and the girls were getting pretty busy (another potential explanation!) so it was hard to stay on top of work. I got a babysitter to come in once a week so I could duck out to the library or a cafe to get my work done. It helped a lot. But.

Having a babysitter meant that I had some time by myself. It’s like the anxiety knows exactly when to catch you alone and vulnerable. That’s when I first noticed the Bad Thoughts breaking through. I’d leave in a state of productive overwhelm, and once alone I’d think “If a drunk driver hit and killed me right now, no one would be hurt! Everything would be solved!!” or “I shouldn’t go back because everyone would be so much happier without me.” There was so much lightness in those thoughts, though. Relief from the fear and overwhelm and guilt. Dissolving into thin air would be a great solution.

It was NEVER an active thought. It was never something I CHOSE to think. That’s important. I didn’t realize that until Ryan and later my therapist told that to me. I was never going to do anything, and the thoughts were never suicidal ideation. I know that can happen to some people, and I’m feeling lucky and happy that it wasn’t that level for me. But it was still not normal and not ok. And for the most part I just shook them off as weird. Obviously I can’t tell anyone! They’ll think I’m crazy and suicidal! And guys, truly. I wasn’t. Those thoughts were never in the driver’s seat. Just a super rude and loud voice interjecting from the third row.

The turning point was on a really good day. I went to see Wonder Woman with my two best friends and it was so much fun. I felt uplifted and happy and relieved because this clearly means that I’m Ok!!!!! And then WHAM. Busting through my happy thoughts like the Kool-Aid man, the thought that certainly I cannot go back to or handle real life. I don’t want to be here anymore!!!

Ok.

Ok, brain. Thaaaaaaat’s… not me. That’s not ok. That’s not normal. That’s not healthy. We were having a good day! I was happy!

But do I dare say something? Will it sound crazy? Will everyone run from me? Will it sound fake? Will people believe me? And then what if people believe me??????

We took a family vacation up to Idaho the next week. I intentionally spent a ton of time unplugged and outside. It was so much fun and so good. And dumb dumb me thought that might cure ~it. And then I cried the entire way home.

Well, ugly sobbed and panted is a more accurate description. Heading back to real life felt like an actual physical weight slowly settling in on me. Was I driving back into the arms of fear and panic? So I finally confessed to Ryan, terrified that he would recoil. And of course he didn’t. He responded so warmly, with such love and calm.

He told me it was my brain – it wasn’t me. He told me I had done nothing wrong; I was doing nothing wrong. Mental illness is stuff being off-kilter in your brain. It’s not something you choose. It’s not a hole you dug, and it’s not a hole you can dig yourself out of, hard as you might try. But let’s get some you some help.

And so we did.